by Tanya Allan
“May I at least wash?”
“We move out at first light tomorrow. If there is time, I will have water provided so you and your friend may wash. Mark my words, woman, harm one of my men and you will die.”
“Mark my words, Roman, harm me or my friend and you will all die.”
Gallinas turned to the centurion.
“Take her away. Ensure she is secured and allow her access to water. Do not leave her unguarded for a single moment.”
The centurion rose, nodded and looked at me.
“Sir, perhaps we could allow her to wear something less distracting?”
Gallinas regarded me for a moment.
“No, let her be seen as she is; not how the prudes of Rome would want her to be seen.”
“I wasn’t thinking of the prudes of Rome, but of my men. Her clothing leaves little to the imagination, and I’d hate it if the men were distracted at a key moment. Many of the men have not seen, let alone tasted female flesh for many weeks. I would hate for some to be tempted to cause a regrettable incident.”
“I care not what happens to her,” Gallinas was honest enough to say.
“Sir, her welfare is not the issue. I care about the men, and if one of them should try to take advantage of her, you saw what she did to our champion?”
“Perhaps you’re right. Sort out something that covers her and her friend, but nothing too fancy. I do not her to get ideas above her station.”
“My station? Roman, I’d fight naked and beat you, so don’t bust a gut on my account,” I said, as the two guards entered the tent.
As the guards led me out, I heard Gallinas say, “By Jupiter, I’d like to tame that one!”
“I somehow think she’d be the one doing the taming,” I heard Gaius reply.
They took me to a spot in the centre of their encampment. I noticed that they had defences in place, sentries deployed and patrol pickets despatched. I was roughly pushed into a small and rather tatty tent. Inside I found Iona sitting with her feet bound to a stake embedded in the earth. Her hands were still bound to her front.
“My Lady, you are not hurt?” she said as I was forced to sit on the ground next to her. The guard expertly tied my ankles to the same stake.
“No, I’m fine. Have they done anything to you?”
“No. They seem to fear us.”
“Well they might,” I said, as the guards fixed a stake for me to be attached to as well.
After tying my feet firmly to the stake, the guards left, leaving us alone.
“What did they do to you?”
“Nothing. Their commander is a boy called Gallinas. He’s a jumped up little fool who thinks he is going places in the political strata of the empire. Unfortunately, as he comes from a wealthy family, he probably will. However, the Pilus Prior (Senior Centurion and Cohort commander) of these soldiers is another matter. He is a good soldier who knows his business. They will be bringing us water in which we can wash. They should also be bringing us some clothing so we don’t have to be paraded half naked in front of all these soldiers. Hopefully, they might also feed us.
“I thought they might rape you,” she said.
“No such luck. They know I’d kill any man who tried to have me without my consent.”
I noticed a tear in her eye.
“Don’t be afraid, this is the beginning. It’s what I wanted, so don’t you be afraid. You didn’t have to come, you know that?”
“I know. I’m sorry, but I do fear. I’m not as strong as you, and I don’t understand.”
“Do you trust me, Iona?”
“With my life.”
“Then, trust me now. These men think they control events, but they don’t. I control events and will do so until we get to Rome.”
“We’re going to Rome?”
“Yes. Gallinas will have no choice but to take me south, to Londinium, and then send me to Rome. And you, my girl, will be coming with me.”
She tried to smile, but the fear was too great.
Chapter Four
Eboracum, or as it came to be known, York, was a thriving Roman military outpost in what was to become the largest county in all England – Yorkshire. My brain was so filled with data that meant I had to concentrate to find order and meaning from within the jumble of facts.
I discerned that the name York comes not from the Latin, or from the Celtic tribes who lived there prior to the Roman conquest, but from the Viking word for the town during their time there, well after the decline of Rome. They called it Jorvik, so it would be wholly wrong to use it in this narrative.
The area that would become Yorkshire was the homeland of the two Celtic tribes, the Brigantes and the Parisii. Strangely, the latter tribe may well be related to another tribe of the same name that lived in Gaul, so the name Paris may have come down the ages from this root. But as York was founded by the Roman fortification, it seems right and proper to use the name Eboracum.
As we marched south, bringing up the rear of the long column of Romans, I was able to see the sort of terrain the Romans had to deal with in conquering this land. Forest seemed to stretch for mile upon mile; and not the quaint wooded glades into which one could enjoy a leisurely stroll of an afternoon. This was dense and thick woodland, with tangled undergrowth and dripping with wildlife. Bears, wild boars and deer were plentiful. At night, wolves could be heard calling from with its depths, making those with a nervous disposition even more fearful.
The Romans had to literally carve their way through this rough landscape, with soldiers taking their turn to ensure the way was cleared. Roads would be built here in time, but at this moment, rough tracks had to be hewn from the forest.
Already, though, these tracks followed the straight lines, which would soon be the trademark of all Roman roads that would follow.
The route we took had already been cleared by this and other units in the past, so we made steady, if slow time. Each night, Iona and I were staked out in a tent, given food and some water and then left alone. The Romans were taking no chances, and I heard the men swearing long after we stopped as they were forced to dig ditches and put defensive pilings in place. They were not risking another attack, so there were a large proportion of men on duty around the clock.
As a result, the men were tired and fed up. Instead of returning with plunder and glory, they were returning with just a few captives and no plunder at all.
During the day, we were tied together and to the rear of a wagon containing some of the more severely wounded men. They buried five of them on the way, so we were regarded with some hostility by those who survived.
Roman morale was, as I think I have mentioned, low. This was partly due to the decision to return to civilisation without the plunder they had anticipated, and in part, that there had been no great victory for the Ninth Legion to record on their standards.
It was still early days in their struggle to control the Brigantes, in which time there would be more battles and many battle honours won. However, on the fourth day, there was a flurry of activity as two columns of cavalry charged to the front, and the sounds of some disturbance reached our ears at the rear. Some soldiers came to the rear and formed a defensive shield around us, as if to prevent any rescue raid from being launched to free us. In the end, it proved to be a small raiding party of some tribesmen who made the mistake in attacking the patrolling scouts that were on the left flank. About thirty tribesmen were taken captive, and a similar number were killed. They were roped together and kept apart from Iona and me.
I appreciated that Gallinas’s reaction to spare a century to come and guard us two women meant that we were of some value in his eyes.
He never summoned me and apart from seeing him on his fine white horse at some distance, we had no contact while on the march.
It was a dreary and damp day when we finally arrived at Eboracum. Save for a few sentries on the ramparts, no one was there to see our anything but triumphant return.
Although we had had a brief wash
on that first day, we had not been allowed to repeat the performance since, so we were filthy when we finally arrived.
I was amazed, for the fortress was a credit to those early military engineers. The stone fortress, which I could see was still being constructed, looked to cover an enormous area. In the depths of my artificially enhanced memory, I recalled that it covered a massive fifty-two acres and was home to over six thousand soldiers. One then had to take into account all the other persons who were necessary for everyday military life, so there were close on ten thousand people living here.
I saw about six sentries. They were all damp and miserable, regarding us dispassionately as we trudged in through the open gates.
Gallinas had the two cohorts form orderly ranks in the large open square. I smiled, as I could relate to a parade ground when I saw one.
“Soldiers of the Ninth; we have returned, mainly intact with stories to tell,” he began.
“Yeah, but no fucking booty!” said a disgruntled voice near the rear. Gallinas clearly didn’t hear, but a junior centurion had, and sought to identify the heckler.
“We have gained valuable insight into our enemies, their tactics and strategies, which we shall put to good use in the next campaign in the spring. We now will have a time of consolidation and a degree of respite in which we can train to become even more effective in quelling the local barbarians. Go to your quarters, safe in the knowledge that you have served Rome and the Emperor well.”
Having delivered his speech, he rode off the square, no doubt to some comfortable apartment where slaves would supply him with a hot bath.
The centurions then took charge, shouting and bellowing until the square was empty.
Gaius and four legionaries came over to where Iona and I were still tethered to the rear of a wagon.
Without a word, he had the men cut all the bonds, save those that held our hands together.
“So, he still doesn’t trust me, then?” I asked.
“You have given him no reason to,” Gaius replied.
“Now we go to the lock-up?”
He nodded.
“Just be grateful that you’re still alive.”
I simply smiled.
He turned away, and we found ourselves flanked by the four legionaries as we followed him off the square. They carried no shields or pilum, so were armed with only their swords.
I could have taken them, but there was little point at this stage. I permitted them to lead us to a substantial building at the corner of the fortress, built into the very fortifications. I laughed, for prisons have changed little over the years.
As soon as the door opened, I could smell the stench of unwashed bodies. I expected him to lead us down into the depths of the earth, but instead he started ascending the narrow staircase. The soldiers motioned for us to follow, so we did.
On the first floor, there were cells, but not exactly what I expected. For a start, the smell was better up here. The cells were large and spacious, with simple wooden-framed beds. On the beds, was fresh straw and a ubiquitous bucket had been placed beneath the small, barred window.
“We are favoured,” I said, which drew a laugh from the centurion. The four legionaries waited outside.
“These are secure quarters for persons of substance who have erred and need confining. The cells downstairs are for the drunken soldiers or the criminals who seek to rob our citizens. Know that you are privileged and this privilege will be withdrawn if you give us cause.”
“And then you’ll put us in with the drunken legionaries and petty criminals? I don’t think that would be very pleasant,” I said.
He looked at me with a shrewd expression.
“Why do I feel it would be more unpleasant for the men than for you two?”
I simply smiled.
“It is permissible to have some more water to wash?” I asked.
“I think that could be possible. Don’t expect it to be warmed for you.”
“As long as no one has pissed in it, I’ll be content.”
He laughed and nodded to one of the legionaries. The man stepped forward and cut the bonds around our wrists.
“I’ll have some food sent up as well. If I can find some cloth, perhaps you can fashion some garments that will cover you more effectively.”
“Are you embarrassed, Gaius?” I asked.
He looked up sharply as I used his name, but then relaxed.
“Not embarrassed, no, but I do have to maintain discipline, and having you flaunt your half-naked bodies in front of the men makes my job more difficult.”
“I’m no seamstress,” I said.
Iona was not following our conversation, as we spoke in Latin. I turned to her at this point.
“If they bring cloth, can you make us clothes?” I asked.
“Yes, but they will be crude.”
“He just wants us not to flash our flesh in front of the soldiers. It’s bad for discipline.”
She snorted and laughed, but with little humour. She looked worried and afraid.
“Don’t worry, little one,” I said. “This is all according to my plan.”
The centurion left us, and one of the soldiers locked the door and then appeared to leave the building. Certainly, they had left no guard on the same floor as us. I went to the window and managed to peer down into the courtyard below. One sentry was by the door, but I could not see how many were stationed inside, on the lower levels.
Iona sat on the bed. I could see she was all-in, poor kid. I sat next to her and placed my arm around my shoulders. At least we were in the same cell.
“You didn’t have to stay with me, kiddo,” I said.
I was rewarded with a small smile.
“I did. My life with them was dead. A few days with you is more living than everything I have had so far.”
We were both tired and aching, so we curled up together on the straw, wrapped in a blanket, and slept.
I heard them approaching. The bare wooden floors and stairs echoed with the hob-nails that they had on the soles of the soldiers’ sandals.
By the time the two men arrived at our door, I was awake and standing, waiting. Iona was still fast asleep.
“Step back against the wall,” ordered one of the men.
Even in his armour and uniform he appeared young; perhaps just sixteen or seventeen at the most.
I stepped back.
One man opened the door, and the other, the young one with the pimples, entered, keeping a wary eye on me. I noticed he removed his sword and handed it to his colleague. I wondered what tales had been told of my swordsmanship to cause orders such as that to be given. I sensed Gaius’ sensible hand on that one.
He placed a basket on the floor and then left, returning with a bucket. Once that was on the floor by the basket, he scurried out again, with his colleague locking the door again.
In the basket, were a loaf of coarse bread and an earthenware pot containing a broth of some kind with chunks of fatty meat and vegetables floating in it. It smelled all right, but was rather watery and lacking seasoning.
However, it was warm food, for which we were both grateful. The water in the bucket was cold and clean, so we drank our fill and then washed in what was left.
We were both very grimy, with caked dirt and blood on our skin and in our hair. To be honest, a power shower would have a job to clean us both properly, so a bucket of cold water and no soap was woefully inadequate.
By the time our warders returned, the food was all gone and we had used every scrap of water, as well as a good amount of straw, with which we had attempted to scrub our bodies.
Having no alternative, we had dressed again in the rags in which we had been captured.
Once more, we were ordered to the back of the cell, away from the door. Once more, one man entered and removed the bucket and basket.
“Could we have some more water and straw, please,” I asked.
The pimply one grunted, throwing a roll of coarse brown cloth onto the floor b
efore leaving.
Inside the roll, were a needle and some thread. Iona opened it and rolled the cloth out, observing that there was enough cloth for three of four people, but no blade with which the cloth could be cut.
“This is useless, as there’s nothing to cut this with,” Iona said.
“Take off your clothes,” I said.
She never asked me for an explanation, but simply disrobed, as did I.
“No, we stay naked until they provide us with a cutting blade.”
The two soldiers returned with a fresh supply of water in the bucket.
On seeing us both naked and not exactly hiding our bodies, he refused to open the door until we clothed ourselves.
“Not until we get something to cut the cloth. Our rags are filthy, so we stay naked until you give us the means to make some clothing.”
The men went away without giving us the water.
They returned a few minutes later with Gaius.
“What’s happening here; why are you naked?” he asked.
When I told him, he snorted and made the soldier open the door. He placed the bucket on the floor and grinned at me.
“You’re trouble, aren’t you?” he asked. He did not sound angry.
“If you want us presentable and to make our own clothes, then is it not reasonable to provide us with the means by which it is possible?”
He grunted and took a small knife from his belt. He passed it to me, hilt first.
“I want your word you will not use this for any other purpose?”
“What good would it do? You know I can take on any of your soldiers without a weapon and still win?”
“Swear it,” he repeated.
“I so swear,” I said, taking the blade. It was a nicely balanced and sharp knife, utilitarian and functional, without the ornamentation that many officers preferred. This was a soldier’s knife, not the sort that a popinjay like Gallinas would possess.
I passed it to Iona, and Gaius immediately saw his problem, for she had not sworn not to use it. I watched his eyes narrow, and knew that his hand could go to his sword in a moment.
“Neither will she use it for any other purpose, I swear,” I said, calming him.
